Mission: Cook! (30 page)

Combine
the flour and salt in a bowl. Add the shortening, and cut it in with a pastry blender until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. With a fork, stir in just enough water to bind the dough. Gather the dough into a ball and transfer it to a lightly floured surface. Roll out to about
¹
/
₈
inch thick.

Transfer to a shallow 9-inch pie pan and trim to leave a ½-inch overhang. Fold the overhang under for a double thickness. Flute the edge with your fingers. Refrigerate.

Place a baking sheet in the oven and preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Peel and core the pears. Slice them into a bowl. Peel, core, and slice the apples, and add to the pears. Stir in
¹
/
₃
cup of the sugar, the cornstarch, salt, and lemon zest. Add the lemon juice and raisins, and stir to blend.

To make the crumb topping, combine the remaining sugar, flour, cinnamon, and butter in a bowl. Blend with your fingertips until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Set aside.

Spoon the fruit filling into the pie shell. Sprinkle the crumbs lightly and evenly over the top.

Place the pie on top of the baking sheet in the oven and bake for 10 minutes, then reduce the heat to 350 degrees. Cover the top of the pie loosely with a sheet of aluminum foil, and continue baking until browned, 35 to 40 minutes more.

I
HAVE AN OUTGOING NATURE, AND I ENJOY ENCOUNTERING PEOPLE ON
every level, professionally, in the kitchen, in the dining room, and beyond. Providing pleasure at the table is an ongoing source of motivation. But without passion, the fire dies, the pleasure diminishes, and the people drift away.

Passion can be described as a fire inside. I consider myself a lucky man in that I discovered my passion for cooking at an early age. I never really had to stoke the fire, or bank it or conceal it, or watch it die to a flicker or a spark and then fight to rekindle it. I found that I had the interest and the ability early on and opportunities came my way, by chance or intention, which allowed me to follow my passion. In my profession, no chef is an island, however.

Each person in the chain has to have a vested interest and each person has to be accountable. Each person has to act like an owner, like a stockholder in every meal that is placed before a customer. Pride in craftsmanship is essential, whether you are cooking for a thousand or putting a meal on the table at home, even if you are eating alone. It begins with showing up to work on time, in clean clothes, teeth brushed, hair combed, ready to put your best effort forward. You can try to motivate people, incentivize them, train them, threaten them even, but man, woman, boy, or girl, if there is no fire in the belly for the task at hand, your pains will most likely be in vain.

I like seeing passion in people; I respond to it, and I have to believe that the reverse is true. When passion is present, anything is possible, and you must train yourself to recognize it and fan the flames whenever and wherever it is encountered. I like to think that in my kitchen, a passionate dishwasher can rise to the level of a passionate chef; indeed, my good friend Ruben Espinal is proof of that. He started at the back of the kitchen, made himself indispensable, and argued passionately for a chance to learn. When given the chance, he responded with talent and hard work, and has never given less than his best efforts. And a chef he is today, at Resorts in Atlantic City.

Today, my right and left hands in the kitchen and in my various travels are both, by a strange and happy coincidence, named “George.” They both came to me at different times, and I recognized their potential in different ways. George Kralle, whom we laughingly call “Little George” (only in comparison to the other George, as you would readily see if you ever happened to be stuck in an elevator between the two of them), appeared in my kitchen looking for a position when I had none available. He had a solid background in working at hotels and country clubs and had been part of the team that opened Trump's first hotel, the Trump Plaza. He had an intensity and an eagerness that was apparent, but in reality, the reason I hired him was the appearance of his shoes.
For someone who takes cleaned and polished shoes as seriously as I do, hearkening back to my days in the Royal Navy, I looked upon his lustrously shined footwear as an indisputable endorsement of his character, discipline, and selfrespect. I took him on at my own expense until I could find a spot for him, and have never regretted it.

George Galati, “Big George,” came to me with a great background as well. He had been a sous-chef at Tavern on the Green and head chef at Max's Grill in Florida, and had been voted Chef of the Year in 1993 by the North American Chefs' Association. He came to me with an agenda similar to the one that carried me to the doors of the Waterside Inn and the gentle ministrations of the Brothers Roux. He wanted to learn and to become a top executive chef. I have to admit I responded to his willingness to learn much more than his desire to rise in rank. The former is a process that you can throw yourself into heart and soul; the latter is a result. Whether the desired result comes about or not, it is the process of learning that will always remain a vital and meaningful part of your life. George has the talent and the drive to become anything he wants, and will always feel the benefit of a culinary education passionately pursued, every time he properly organizes a complex task, arrives fifteen minutes early for an appointment, insists on excellence over mediocrity, fries an egg properly, or enjoys a well-prepared meal. I play to the particular strengths of the Georges as much as possible. For instance, George Kralle is very good at hot foods; George Galati excels at cold foods, salads, and the like. In this manner, they are like yin and yang in the kitchen, perfectly complementary in many ways. I have placed many challenges in front of both of these men, and they have always worked hard to pull through with the highest marks.

There is a trick to passion, and that is never to let the pursuit of your passion become stale. For me, as for many in the profession, teaching is critical to keeping the true spirit of cooking alive in yourself and in those with whom you work. Giving of yourself, investing in whatever you are doing beyond the mere fact of just showing up, inspires passion. You have to be fully present in the moment that you are teaching, preparing, planning, ordering, or doing any and all of the things required for great cooking. The attitude and internal compass should remain the same whether you're in the back of the house or out front taking curtain calls.

Especially in the chef culture of today, people want to see you, to talk to you, and to feel they know you. They want to invest themselves in you. Nobody just wants to eat these days; they want an experience, they want a story to tell, they want a memory of having had something special, they want to be
seduced, to be educated, to see something and taste something that they can carry away and try at home, to be entertained. They want to be fulfilled, not just full, at the end of a meal.

Many's the time when I have made a deal on the spot with someone attending a dinner or a banquet to jump off the menu and run back into the kitchen to make them something special; not because of the challenge, not to show off, and not because I am usually standing around in the kitchen at a banquet with a lot of time on my hands, but because it is what they asked for. That's part of the pact:
“Come to me and I will feed you the best way I know how.”
Keeping that attitude fresh for yourself, that you will do your best in whatever your job may be, helps to make sure that the passion stays alive.

I do not want to be known for preparing the same food over and over again. I do not want people to say, “If you go to see that fellow Irvine, you've got to have his
famous
fill-in-the-blank, chipotle something, spicy whatever, insert dish here à
la Robert.
” Picasso had his blue period, but he never went back to it again; da Vinci only painted the
Mona Lisa
once. Frank Sinatra stopped singing “Strangers in the Night” altogether. I would rather have it be said, “Go to see Irvine; you don't know what you're going to get, but it's going to be great.”

Our profession demands hard work, and we all hope that hard work will result in advancement. Everyone wants to be the boss. In many ways, in the kitchen I am like the master of a ship, but that is a sword that cuts both ways. The captain is responsible ultimately for the fate of each member of his crew. He may command, but in a very real sense he is the servant of everyone on board, and he will, if he is worth his salt, go down with the ship as the last man on board. I had good early lessons in service in my life and career, and over time I have learned to submit myself to authoritarian situations without feeling chafed or subordinated. We can strive for perfection and plan for gaining authority, but we must also have a passion for service.

Service is passion tempered with humility. We cook for people, not
at
them. There is a notation under the heading for each of my recipes: “Serves 4,” “Serves 6,” “Serves 8 to 10.” Mark it well.

Preheat
the oven to 200 degrees (so you can keep the steaks warm).

Put 2 tablespoons of the butter and the oil in a large skillet, and turn the heat to medium-high. Season the steaks with salt and pepper. When the butter melts, add the steaks and turn the heat to high. Sear on the first side for about 3 minutes, then turn and sear on the second side for 2 to 3 minutes. Lower the heat and cook until just short of your chosen level of doneness, about 7 minutes total for medium-rare. Remove to a utility platter and keep warm in the oven whilst you make the sauce.

Pour out any fat from the skillet, leaving the brown bits in there. Add the remaining butter and shallots, and cook over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until the shallots are soft, about 3 minutes. Add the green peppercorns and cook for 30 seconds. Add the mustard, cream, and demi-glace, and cook, stirring for 30 seconds.

Pour the sauce over the steaks and serve.

A
NOTHER WAY TO KEEP YOUR PASSION FOR COOKING ALIVE IS TO FOLLOW
this dictum: “Challenge yourself!” I am certain that you have things you do well in the kitchen, have an expertise in certain dishes that produce delicious results, but you should always ask yourself, “Where are the limits of my abilities, and how much fun can I have overcoming them?”

You should have fun in the kitchen, because discovery is fun, and only in cooking do you actually get to feast on your new accomplishments with your friends and family. Cooking should never be a dry exercise in measuring, spooning, and heating. It should be joyful and funny and exciting and thrilling and satisfying. If you are good at sautéing and roasting, become a baker. If you can bake a cake, you can make a soufflé. Go beyond pigs-in-a-blanket the next time you are deciding on the list of hors d'oeuvres for your upcoming affair and find something to do with that tin of caviar you've been denying yourself for years. If your time in the kitchen has become rote and boring, challenge yourself, shake up your routine, and get ready to taste what happens next.

The following is a challenging recipe, but a more flavorful sense of complete satisfaction at the end you will seldom find.